For some time now I’ve been silently questioning just how the fuck that little Amazonian Princess Rihanna has become so huge on each and every side of the pivot?
It really has been nit-combing my follicles pondering as to why the peasant wearing, Pon De Replayin’ empress has reigned supreme for the past few years. It is totally astounding to see what affect an ill-advised undercut and a well publicised fat lip/black eye combo can do for ones flagging career.
Granted her melodies and pop hooks are about as catchy as the hoard of ‘bangers’ that Spain deports every summer, like King Africa, and the lyrical content has finely tuned itself into the Geographical heart of (Sir) Jarvis Cocker (he gave her a nod in one of his lyric lectures that I attended) but have we all forgotten how once upon a ‘My Super Sweet 16′ she was a pre-teens date on the aforementioned programme, sporting more chiffon than Jean-Benet Ramsey and looking like Barbie Mariposa.
Was it her clever sampling on ‘S.O.S’ that catapulted her, forehead first into the mainstream? Was it really her being the patwois tongued version of Sian Llloyd in ‘Umbrella’? Can we throw the blame book at Def Jam for lopping off Lady Sovereign and 3LW’s contracts to pump more green into slicker production and making her album artwork look like soiled, scattered pages of Razzle that you find when you’re 10, in a bush behind The Red Lion?
I’ve heard Ri-Ri get described as a plethora of things such as ‘edgy’ and a ‘Pioneer of Fashion’, or even most recently the ‘ Coffee coloured Gaga’. BOLLOCKS. I’ve seen more personality in a blunt Rimmel eyebrow pencil. Maybe I’m sat here feeling awfully smug and bloated after my chicken blanketed in pancetta dinner and in desperate need to vent my slander. Maybe i’m just really cynical, bitter and jealous at the fact that she gets first dibs on everything that Jeremy Scott dashes his dainty fingers too. Maybe I have far more opinions than friends but lets us all rejoice in the fact that Rihanna’s image is totally and utterly contrived. She’s been put together more so than Hearsay. Pure & Simple.
She’s the manufactured Mattel Christie. She’s the Lolly of the noughties. The last record was completely rushed. How can someone who tours for 365 days of the year have any time to put out a decent long-player without the lyrics sounding somewhat empty. Just throw an xx sample over it, non?
I’d like to think that the self-proclaimed Rude Gyal has some sort of longevity within the industry though, as although her music lacks any sort of soul, honesty and depth, I’m struggling to imagine a dance-floor minus the echoes of ‘We Found Love,’ and how many frustrated lesbians would there be without the ‘Te Amo’ video to hamshank over. The world would be a much bereaved place without Rihanna dn her vocoded vox-box. Praise Be.